Erica has caught up, and parked the buggy by the central sculpture. She comes over to join Vee.

‘The first time you came – were they happy to see you?’

‘Who?’

‘The women. The camp. The newspaper hadn’t sent just anyone to photograph them. They had sent Veronica Moon.’

‘They were probably glad I was a woman. But they had more important things than me to think about.’

Much of her Greenham memory has gone, but Vee smiles at one of the few memories she has of her and Leonie here. It’s more of a photograph itself, really, the resurfacing of only a second or two of the hours they would have spent together that day. Vee with her camera bag, one camera in her hand, another over her shoulder, so she never missed anything; Leonie asking her if she had a pen. But Leonie’s article was excellent, of course it was. And Vee is sure something else happened. When she thinks about their friendship, here, in this place, it feels as though something was saved.

‘I think your work does such a lot to make people see the reality of this place. Rather than the idea of it.’

‘I hope so.’

‘So many female voices – and faces – have been written out of history. I want this exhibition to put them back.’

‘That’s good.’ It is. Vee is glad, most of the time, that so much of what she has forgotten is still available to her, through the photographs she took.

‘Your voice too, Vee,’ Erica adds.

‘Yes.’

They walk in silence, slowly, tracing the perimeter of the circle, Erica glancing towards the parked pushchair every few steps. There is no one else here.

‘What do you remember about my mother?’ Erica asks.

Something in Vee’s mind awakes, whispers to her to be careful, oh, be careful.

She never saw that much of Ursula, really only when she came to the flat, which was always to collect Leonie, never to stay. But she must have something better than that to offer Erica. (Something safe, her mind whispers, something safe.) Ah, ‘I remember offering to take Ursula’s photograph, once. She was waiting for Leonie to get ready, and we were . . . well, we were trying to talk, you know, but neither of us were very chatty people and we didn’t have a lot in common. So I said, shall I take your photo while you’re waiting?’

Erica looks almost hungry. ‘I don’t think I’ve seen those.’

Vee laughs, then wonders if she’s misjudged this, because now she’s going to disappoint. ‘She turned me down. Flat. She said, “I’ve seen your work, Veronica, and you’re very good, but you’re not for me.” ’